Kratanos 8th: Valor and Honor
by Wasber
Summary: Follow the Kratanos 8th, veteran and hardened soldiers of hundreds of battles, as they attempt to hold off the complete and total annihilation. This is a continuation of According to Plan. Mathis is now a general and is tasked with reclaiming a planet from the forces of orks. This is written by a good friend of mine who has asked for me to post this.
1. Prologue

"Into the fray! Into the fray once more, you dogs!" cried commissar adept Krakin. He held his chainsword high above his head and aimed his bolt pistol at the nearest fleeing PDF trooper. He squeezed the trigger and the coward's head disappeared in an explosion of fire, bone, and blood.

That got the rest of the men turning yet again and the squad began pouring solid shot into the oncoming greenskin horde. Thirty thousand orks, with a giant gargant supporting them. The Maklis Hive was in grave danger.

Krakin raised his sword yet again and charged into the enemy. He brought the spinning teeth down onto a screaming grot, tearing the green flesh from bone. The grot was slain and Krakin leveled his bolt pistol at the next one, removing the organs from the greenskin's chest.

Krakin had made dozens of kills that day. Forty-eight grots, fifteen orks, ten of his own men. He was not proud or happy about killing his own troops, but he had to do it to maintain order. This hive was important, and if it were lost, the entire planet would be consumed by the never ending tide of orks.

The planet consisted of two main continents, each taking roughly one eighth of the planet's surface. Connecting the continents was a thin stretch of land, 40 kilometers at its widest, 20 at its most narrow, which some early terraformer made to ease the burden of trade transport between the two continents. Maklis Hive sat in the center of the strip, the only population center, and therefore the only defensive position, on the 5000 kilometer piece of land.

Letting out a massive warcry, Krakin lead a second charge deep into the flank of an enemy formation. Thirty troopers fired into the mass of greenskin scum and then tore into their flesh with bayonets. Krakin killed three orks with a steady burst of bolt fire and then ripped another two to pieces with his chainsword. He paused to reload the sickle clip of his pistol and to survey the battle ground.

The orks were burning the farm land. They had burned the entire first continent to the ground. That was definitely a problem, as the planet was an agri-world that fed twenty forge worlds. If the planet were to be destroyed, over 45 billion people would starve and twice as many guardsmen would go unarmed. They had to prevent the orks from reaching the second continent.

He sawed off the head of a nearby grot, then chopped the arm clean off of the runt herd next to it. His counter charge was being forced back by the throng of green flesh. He felt a sharp pain and saw a grot was biting his hand. He yanked away his hand, but the grot manage to tear off one of his fingers, blinding the commissar momentarily with pain. He whirled around and ran back to the earthen wall where his troops made their second line of defense.

He leaped over the wall and manned a mounted storm bolter. The double barrels of the large bolt weapon barked and flashed as they launched .75 caliber rounds 4 times a second, exploding as they hit the green flesh and painting the ground red. He was sure he gunned down at least forty orks and twice as many grots. Still, they were advancing. The horde was inexhaustible.

"Fall back! Fall back!"

The commissar whirled around and pointed his bolt pistol at the cowardly PDF leader. "There shall be no falling back! We make our stand here! Any cowards like you will be executed!" He raised the bolt pistol to the head of the coward. "Any last words?"

"Sir, listen to me. Look behind yo-" His head shattered. The commissar holstered the smoking gun and turned his attention back to the orks. It was then that he noticed the approaching gargant, with its crude weapons pointed at the make shift wall.

"Fall back!" He shouted as he made his way to the third and final wall. They had to destroy that gargant or the hive would definitely fall.

His bionic eye zoomed in and refined the image of the gargant, searching the spiked and weapon covered surface for any weaknesses. He saw that both of the gargant's feet were open in front and were being used as troop transports. Maybe there was a way to the command center through the feet.

He needed to find a way into one of the feet. Hearing a roar, he whirled around and saw a group of ork bikers charging the wall. He leaped forward and fired the rest of his clip into the nearest biker. The biker flew off the bike, missing an arm and a head. Krakin recovered the bike and mounted it.

His feet barely touched the ground and the seat was too wide for comfort. He prayed to the Emperor that the bike would work for him and pulled on the throttle. The bike shot forward, moving wildly through the various mobs of orks. He had crashed into half a dozen orks before he got the unruly bike back under control.

He turned, gunned the engine and shot off towards the gargant. Within seconds, he was half way to the gargant. The monstrous, bipedal beast was closer than he thought, but the relieved him as it meant the gargant was slightly smaller than he had assumed.

He aimed the bike as best as he could into the right foot of the gargant. As he was about to ride the boarding ramp into the foot, the foot rose to take a massive step. Reacting on instinct, Krakin grabbed the edge of the gargant's foot ramp. The rough metal edges dug into his hands and he felt blood dripping down his arms as the ground fell away from him. Six meters in the air, he pulled himself over the edge, sprawling on the floor as the foot slammed into the ground.

He got up and charged at the four dumb-founded orks within the foot. He blew the head off of one with his bolt pistol and stabbed another straight through. The third fired its crude pistol, but the shot went wild, ricocheting off the sheet metal wall. The fourth one, a large greenskin, most likely a nob, raised its chainaxe over its head and tried to chop Krakin in two.

The spinning blades missed by a hair as Krakin dived to the right, rolling back to his feet. This positioned him perfectly to remove the head from the third ork with a smooth stroke of his sword. The nob raised its axe again and tried to hit Krakin. This time, Krakin parried the blade, cringing as the shriek of two whirring chainblades clashed together filled the echoing foot.

Krakin broke free from the block and tried to sweep low and take out the nob's legs. Mid-stroke, he was thrown off balance as the foot rose again. To the horror of the now pone Krakin, the nob maintained its balanced and moved to remove the head of the commissar with its chainaxe.

Rolling away from the potentially fatal blow, Krakin sliced the ankle of the beast open. Bright red blood spilled onto the floor as the nob howled in a mixture of rage and pain. The foot slammed into the ground again and this time, the nob fell back, landing on its own chainaxe. The blades began slicing into the back of the nob, spraying its alien blood all over the holding bay. When the nob finally died, Krakin was covered in its blood.

With both of his weapons still in hand, he ran to the crude elevator at the back of the leg. He pushed the biggest button, assuming the orks would make the biggest button the most important one. Orks being orks, he assumed correctly.

As the elevator rose from the foot to the head, he reloaded his bolt pistol. 12 fresh bolts were all he had left. That and his already over worked chainsword. He prayed that the resistance in the cockpit was minimal.

As the door opened, he saw to his dismay that there was a huge ork, at least three meters tall and covered in huge muscles, wielding a power klaw right in the center of the room. 'He must be the Warboss', thought Krakin.

The Warboss yelled at the intruder, "Oy! 'Umie!"

"By the Emperor, the beast speaks," the shocked Commissar commented.

"Damn right I spoke. 'oo are ya anyway?"

"I am Commissar Krakin, political leader of the Maklis Hive forces."

"HA! You ain't no leader. A leader needs ta be big an' strong, like me! You iz scrawny and weak!"

"Then fight me, you green bastard, and we'll see who the weak one is."

The massive ork charged Krakin, raising the power klaw high in the air. Red sparks were flying from the power klaw as it smashed into the chest of the unfortunate commissar. Krakin felt every one of his ribs breaking. He slammed against a wall and blacked out for a moment.

He awoke to the hard laughter of the Warboss. "Har Har! I beat ya wid one blow! You iz very weak, 'umie. I think your boyz would be better wid out ya!"

Krakin coughed and a spot of blood appeared on his lips. A piece of his ribs must have punctured his lungs. "Jokes on you, greenskin filth. You failed to notice the krak grenade I planted in your shirt as you struck me."

"WHAT?!" Cried the ork. A moment later, the warboss's torso disappeared in a brilliant flash of light and a cloud of vaporized blood. The meks that were driving the gargants ran in fear of seeing their boss killed. Krakin fired all of his bolts into the control consoles at the front of the cockpit. Once that was done, he allowed himself to faint and get on with the task of dying.

Elsewhere on the field, as the gargant ground to a halt, PDF trooper Siphus Quislen fired his last clip of solid slugs from his autogun. He saw small puffs of blood appear as the bullets hit the greenskins, but it didn't even seem to slow down the orks.

As the last bullets left the chamber and the firing mechanisms clicked dry, Siphus drew his combat knife. It was half a meter long, barely even the size of a knife anymore. He had lovingly forged it himself, back on his old planet. He had moved from his old high-gravity world to this lower gravity agri-world three months back. The Planetary governor and the farm he worked at paid for his trip, provided he would work in the fields and join the PDF. Now here he was, as good as dead on a doomed planet three months later.

Knife drawn, he leaped from the trench. He felt so much lighter and stronger on this planet. He used to weight over two hundred kilos, but now he weight only seventy-five. He had a vertical leap of five feet and was much stronger than most people on this planet. He hoped this would give him an edge in combat with the greenskins.

As he charged a mob of maybe fifteen boyz, he leaped right at their leading nob. His knife found its new home within the nob's massive neck. Blood spilled from under the knife and shot up in a great spout as he withdrew the blade.

He stabbed a second ork and punched a third. The knife cut through half the ork's torso, killing the greenskin. The third ork was knocked clean back several feet. Siphus was certain he had felt and heard its ribcage shatter.

The other orks began to run away, screaming. Suddenly, a huge chainaxe cut one of the orks in half. It was a warboss, the one leading the infantry charge on the east gate.

"You lot ain't done fighting 'til I sayz you'z done!"

"But boss! Day 'umie killed Grotblit!"

"Grotblit? Dat scrawny snotlings? Har! Served 'im right, tinking he was good enuff to be my better! I'll kill dis 'umie myself."

"I'm right here, you smelly grot!"

"Wot did ya call me?"

"A smelly grot. A filthy, scrawny snotling!" taunted Siphus.

The warboss let out a warcry that shook the heavens and charged at Siphus. Siphus leaped two meters into the air and managed to land on the warboss's shoulders. He shoved his knife into the skull of the confused ork and liquefied its brain with sheer force.

As the warboss fell over, some nobz took notice, each claiming that he was the new boss. This started infighting at the eastern gate. Siphus returned to his trench a hero. The eastern gate would not fall that day.

Instead, the southern gate fell. Four hours after two heroes killed two warbosses, the city was lost. That was when the imperial guard took notice.


	2. Chapter 1

Miles above the planet sat three Imperial Navy cruisers. In each, over thirty thousand imperial guardsmen boarded onto their transports. Many of the troopers weren't overly concerned about another war on another planet. Most had seen over six other warzones on as many different planets. In the Kratanos 8th, all men were veterans, handpicked and closely trained by their superiors. Many could shoot just as well as an Astartes. Several dozen could shoot better.

Due to this, and their highly tried and true small force tactics, over the last five years, only five thousand men were lost and replaced in an army consisting of just over one hundred thousand. Most regiments would take casualty rates of over twenty-five percent annually, while this highly trained force was only taking one percent casualties.

As the drop ships began their descent to the main continent, Ignace Mathis looked on in pride. He had been in the regiment for over fifteen years now. Both of his arms were now bionic replacements. His left arm had been a trophy for a dark eldar pirate, until they had hunted him down and slain him. His right was lost to a nasty blow from some ork warlord's huge chainaxe. He had manage to kill the warlord a few minutes later, only seconds before he passed out from blood loss.

As he scratched his chin with the cold replacement fingers, he decided he didn't mind. His arms were just bare metal, although anti corrosion and rust coats were present. He couldn't afford an artificial skin covering on either of his arms, but he felt that just added to his intimidation when trying to keep moral up through fear or when facing an enemy leader.

Some of the men didn't like the appearance of his arms. They reminded some of the men too much of the necron force that had wiped out half of his regiment back when they only number three thousand. Back when he was only a captain.

Now he was a general. Technically, while the 8th division was all one unit, it consisted of a hundred sub units, each led by a captain. Most of the time, the sub units worked alone or in small groups. A mass gathering like this was rare and was only used for huge invasions.

Mathis took a drag from his vintage cigar he had received as a present from the previous planet. Apparently, it was worth more than the five times the annual earnings of a factory manager on that world. Mathis thought that it was absolutely vile. But still, one does not look a gift grox in the mouth. Unless you want your head bitten off.

He heard the door behind him open behind him and heard the steady and familiar tread of his assistant and his personal sanctioned psyker.

"Yes, Dilloth, what is it?"

"Your transport is ready for you, sir. Shall I accompany you down to the planet?"

"Of course, friend. I wouldn't dream of treading on yet another ork filled world without you covering my scrawny hide."

The psyker chuckled at the thought of Mathis being considered scrawny. While he didn't look large, due to the slim nature of his arms, Mathis was a powerful man. His 'enhanced' arms allowed him to take a storm bolter as his main weapon, a feat usually only accomplished by veteran Astartes. Most men's arms would fly off due to the high recoil, but Mathis was used to his bionic arms and they were strong enough to withstand the recoil.

In his other hand, he would carry a power fist into battle. The disruption field mixed with the sheer mass of the fist made the weapon heavy and slow. Mathis had used it so often, it felt more natural than his actual hand, and he could fight with it just as well. He opted to have it permanently installed to his right hand two years ago. That took some time to adjust to. Poor trooper Darcis was the butt of the lesson Mathis had learned that day. You don't give pats on the back while wearing a power fist.

That memory still haunted Mathis. His favorite captain and best friend, Captain Tarkus. Tarkus had just managed to direct his fire team's fire to attack a single point on a chaotic baneblade. That point was a thin piece of metal covering the main shell stock for the battle cannon. The concentrated lasfire had melted the armor and set off the high explosive within. Mathis had forgotten about his power fist. The next thing he knew, his hand had gone through Trakus' chest. He died seconds later.

Mathis shook out of his memories and followed Dilloth to his personal lander. It was stored in the center hanger. The hanger was a breathtaking sight. It was absolutely huge and filled to the brim with fighters, bombers and troop transports. Mathis caught up to Dilloth and walked beside him.

"How many men have already landed?" Mathis inquired.

"Roughly fifteen thousand. We also have twelve hundred chimeras, one hundred and fifty Leman Russes of various builds, two hundred and thirteen basilisks, and three dozen hell hounds."

"Excellent. Any ongoing battles?"

"Yes sir, it seems Tranik hive is under a siege. That would be the hive guarding the entrance to the friendly continent from the trade strip. They've been under siege for," Dilloth checked his dataslate, "three months. More or less once we received the distress call."

"I'm still upset about that. The Planetary Governor should have contacted us the moment the first hive fell."

"We can't do anything about that now, sir."

"I know. Fit as many troops as you can into those chimeras along with the Russes and the hellhounds. Let's give that hive some relief."

They walked up the ramp to the ship and sat in the restraint seats. The pilot flicked on the engines and they began their descent.

"All right, we're going to mount up with eleven other companies and stop the siege on Tranik Hive. Check your weapons, grab extra ammo, and mount into your chimeras. Remember, we're fighting greenskins again. No need to worry, we've done this plenty of times before," Captain Savlon reassured his men.

After he made his announcement, his troopers went about cleaning their lasguns and grabbing a few extra clips. He didn't know exactly how strong the greenskins were or if they had any armored units or even, Emperor forbid, gargants. Luckily, he heard reports of their own armor elements accompanying them into the battle.

Lost in thoughts, Savlon failed to notice the foot that shot out in front of him. He fell flat on his face, but rolled on his back, knife drawn almost immediately after hitting the ground.

"Clumsy oaf, watch your step," sneered captain Bruk.

"Why don't you get your men ready instead of playing childish pranks, Bruk. Or are you still as stupid as a school boy?" snapped Savlon.

"You little runt, do you know who you are talking to?"

"A stuck up little prick who thinks he's all important just because he lived on Terra. You and a dozen billion others. You didn't even come from one of the noble houses. Hell, you weren't even on the bloody planet when we picked you up!"

"I was, I mean am, more important than a dirty little farm boy from a ass-backwards agri-world."

Savlon leaped to his feet, knife still drawn. "Listen, Bruk," he said to the huge captain, "Don't you have to tend to your men? I mean, after the training you gave them, they can't know how to prepare by themselves."

Savlon found himself knocked back on the ground in possession of a bloody nose. He quickly swiped his legs to the left, knocking Bruk's out from under him. All one hundred-fifty kilos of him crashed into Savlon, knocking the wind from both of them.

The brawl continued for two minutes before several other officers managed to pull the two men apart. Savlon lost a tooth and was sure his nose was broken. Bruk wasn't in much better shape.

"Hey!" shouted another captain Savlon couldn't see, "Save it for the orks!" Several of the others cheered at that statement.

Bruk spat at Savlon's feet. "Filthy grox-lover!"

"Stuck-up blik!"

"That's enough, both of you," a commanding voice ordered. Both men turned to face their addresser and found themselves facing General Mathis. Savlon kneeled, but Bruk barely saluted the general.

"Stand up please, Savlon. I trained you personally. If that doesn't make us friends, I don't know what does," he chuckled. Now, both of you, get your men ready. I'm leading this assault and I expect both of your companies to be in perfect condition. Understood?"

"Sir, yes Sir!" said Savlon

"Whatever," Bruk sneered, walking away.

"That captain really does have a stick up his ass, doesn't he Savlon?"

"Yes, sir," Savlon said, stifling a laugh. "If you don't mind sir, I-"

"No, no, go ahead, get your men ready. My command squad will be joining you specifically and I want my bodyguard to be ready,"

_Me? _Though Savlon, _fighting with the general? I thought he barely knew me._

"I guarantee that my men will be the best you ever fought with," Savlon claimed proudly.

"That's a bold claim. I've fought with Astartes before, Savlon."

"Well, sir, I stand by my claim."

"Then you better not disappoint. I will meet you in an hour."

Savlon turned away, back towards his company. _This'll show that prick once and for all who's the better captain._

Trooper Jarvix was polishing his lasgun for the fourth time since the Captain gave to order to mount for battle. He knew the importance of a clean and fully functioning lasgun. Over the last three years, he had seen half of a dozen of his friends die due to jams caused by an angry machine spirit within the guns. He knew the holy oils made the spirit happier, meaning fewer jams. He muttered a few prayers to the Emperor under his breath as he continued shining the barrel of the weapon.

So intent on his work was he that he failed to hear the soft footsteps over the grass approaching him. A steel blade was held in the hand of the woman silently approaching the oblivious trooper.

"Blessed be the Emperor, for He watches over me in the darkness," continues Jarvix as the woman drew closer, "Blessed be His name, for it brings dread to the heart of my enemies. Blessed be His holy Imperium, for it is Just and Righteous as He designed it to be," The woman was standing behind him, blade ready.

"Praise to the Emp. . ." he stopped short as the blade pressed against his neck. The woman lowered her face to the trooper's ear and whispered, "Gotcha."

"You bitch," he replied calmly. The blade moved from his neck and the woman sat in his lap and began pulling her long, brown hair into a ponytail. She smirked at him and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Haven't you played with your gun long enough?" she asked mockingly.

"No," he responded flatly. While he certainly loved her company, he never appreciated when anyone interrupted his cleaning rituals. That might anger the machine spirit. "You know how I feel about you interrupting my combat traditions, Katly. By the Emperor, you will be the death of me."

"Of course I will. Hell, I could kill you right now. I control you, boy."

"Please, you can't control me," he chuckled. Katly responded by hungrily kissing him for a few seconds. When she pulled back, Jarvix looked at her and replied, "Okay, yes, you do control me."

"Cut it out you two!" Jeered one of the other men prepping for battle.

"Just 'cause you can't get any doesn't mean the rest of us have to be virgins!" Jarvix called back.

"You two really ought to cut it out."

"Get off of our bloody backs, you bastard," Jarvix sneered as he turned around to see Captain Savlon standing behind him.

"What did you say trooper?"

"Er, I said 'Get off of the muddy packs, my master',"

Savlon looked like he was about to laugh at Jarvix, but managed to fight the urge. "Right, I'll ignore that. In the last engagement, I lost Peterton, one of my honor guard. I have yet to find a replacement. You, Trooper Olig Jarvix, are one of the best shots in my company. Would you like to join me in my guard?"

"Sir, I'm speechless,"

"But you're going to say something anyway"

"Er, right. Sir, I'm only a trooper."

"I am aware of that."

"And the honor guard usually only allows in former sergeants ."

"I am also aware of that. Should I assume you are denying the position?"

"No, no no no no, sir, by no means. I'm just shocked, is all."

"Understandable. Trooper Katly, please remove yourself from my guard's lap."

"Anything you want, sir," she said sulkily as she got up and walked away.

Jarvix waved after her, "We'll meet up after the fight!" he called. She raised her hand to show she understood while she continued to walk to her squad.

"Now, Jarvix, if you are done playing boyfriend, we have a fight to get ready for."

"Of course, sir."

Jarvix grabbed his lasgun and put three frag grenades on his belt. He checked to make sure he had all of his flak armor on. Savlon noticed this and said, "Don't worry about your armor. You're getting some nice and new carapace armor. Only the best for my guards."

_Carapace armor!_ thought Jarvix, _Not even the sergeants get that!_ So much was happening so fast. "Anything else I should know sir?"

"Yes, one last thing. You are not only guarding me, but the General today. He's accompanying us onto the field. He chose our company to act as his main go-to unit for this fight, and that means we're going to have to work together."

Again, Jarvix was struck. _The General! Most people outside of the captains never see the General! _As he followed Savlon to the Chimera, he could barely contain himself.

"Right Jarvix, your armor is inside the Chimera, along with your hell-gun, hell-pistol, extra grenades and a one shot hand flamer, just in case. Don't say I had never armed you well."

"No sir, I never would."

"Good. We depart in twenty minutes."

Jarvix climbed into the cramped transport and began to get dressed and start his cleaning ritual on his new hell-gun. _Maybe the Emperor had heard my prayers after all._

Captain Savlon saluted General Mathis as he approached. "My honor guard is at full capacity now, sir. The best men I have are willing to lay down their lives for you."

"Excellent, but let's hope it doesn't come to that. Look here at our current strategy and tell me what you think."

Savlon observed the satellite image of the hive. The horde was completely surrounding the hive, leaving no area for new supplies to enter the hive. The orks also have large numbers of looted anti-aircraft tanks, preventing supplies from being air dropped. The citizens were starving and would run out of food in two weeks. The siege would have to be broken on at least one side by then.

Savlon noticed three different arrows leading into the eastern siege. This was meant to generally break ork forces and wither down the orks numbers. Standard attrition tactics, but Savlon knew they only had twelve thousand or so men to operate with against over a hundred thousand orks on that side alone. If they condense their forces, however, they could strike a blow to a few key ork leaders, shatter moral, and break the siege quickly, or at least get the troops to the hive walls where they can fight behind cover, giving them a better chance at winning a war of attrition and giving them the ability to fight in two directions when the rest of their division arrives.

Savlon told all this to Mathis who nodded along, following the captains logic. At the end of the explanation, Mathis slapped Savlon solidly on the back with his non-powerfist hand.

"Good eye, Savlon, and a better mind. Your strategy was what he had in mind all along. This was a copy of the strategy suggested by several other high ranking officers in the sector. This follows traditional army tactics, which would be wasted here. You passed the test with flying colors." He checked the chrono installed on the wall. "Deployment is in five minutes. Let's go to our chimera, shall we?"

Savlon led him to their command chimera and introduced all the men in the honorguard.

"And finally, this is Trooper Jarvix."

"It's an honor to meet you, sir," Jarvix said, eagerly shaking the General's hand.

"It is also an honor to meet you, Jarvix. I've heard great things about you. Your shooting, your amazing tactics, your ability to make the female troopers feel at home," he said with a wink.

"With all due respect, that would be female trooper. I may be a killer and monster, but I'm no cheater."

Mathis turned to Savlon, "Honorable kid. He has spirit, I'll give him that," he turned back to Jarvix, "Are you ready to lay your life down for the Emperor, boy?"

"Yes, sir. Been ready since I was born."

"Good. He may call upon you today. However, for my sake, let's hope he doesn't. Or else Savlon will kill me for losing his best shot."

"Damn right I would, General."

The guardsmen marched into the Chimera and sat down."

"Three hour ride to the hive. Your asses are about to get real numb!" called back the driver. With a loud grumble and a belch of noxious fumes, the tanks moved east, towards Tranik hive.


	3. Chapter 2

Dilloth's vision scanned over the mass of troopers disembarking their drop ships. The mass of soldiers and tanks was an impressive sight. Several other regiments had joined the drop, totaling their numbers to roughly 200,000 troops, enough chimeras to mobilize all of them, some couple thousand sentinels of both scout and heavy variety, several thousand hellhounds, just over a thousand Leman Russes, and finally ten baneblades of several different variants. What Dilloth was now looking over was but a fraction of the total forces that would reclaim the planet.

Dilloth felt his belt vibrating and took out his short range vox. He clicked the hailing signal off and spoke into the speaker, "General's secretary and psyche Dilloth speaking."

"Dilloth!" boomed the deep voice at the other end, "It's Mathis, no need to be formal."

"Of course, sir."

"How are things going on your end?"

"Fine, the troops are mustering, despite a few gambling rings here and there."

"Looks like the Commissars are forgetting that's a capital offense."

"Indeed, for I think I see one such commissar partaking in the gambling."

"You really need to dumb down your speech, psyker."

"Sorry, sir," He said scratching at the psychic inhibitor implanted in his head.

"Could you do me a favor and pass on a few orders?"

"With pleasure, sir."

Dilloth cracked his knuckles and sat down in a meditation stance. He closed his eyes and tried to open his mind to the Warp. The inhibitor lit up and started to hum, prevent Dilloth from being overflowed with power from the Warp and as a safeguard against a daemon from invading his mind.

He saw the planet through the Warp. He felt the raw energy from the various ork war cries occurring as their latent psychic powers were called into action by the thrill of battle. He saw the bright spots of his fellow psychers and those that belong to the orks. He saw the dim light of the rest of the troops, barely detectable in the Warp. He tapped into their minds with extreme pain to his. The inhibitor started to beep, warning him about taking too much energy. However, Dilloth knew his limits, and while this would stretch them, he would be safe.

He opened the minds of every trooper on the planet and in the spacecraft above. He was bombarded by hundreds of thousands of thoughts, but he managed to maintain his concentration. He tapped into each of their vocal controls within their brains.

"Message from the General," He muttered, each trooper echoing him on the planet and in space. "Once you have landed, take your full combat kit and report to your sergeant at your assigned chimera. Once everyone has landed, we will be acting as a second wave."

For a second, the connection was broken. Dilloth experienced a white hot flash of pain as a daemon tried to force its way into his mind. Dilloth repelled the daemon hastily. He hadn't lived to be forty-nine by being a pushover to daemons.

He quickly reestablished the connections to the minds of the troopers. "Sorry about that. As I was saying," two hundred thousand voices said in unison, "All tank crews, your orders are to fill your ammunition piles to the brink and be ready for both anti-tank and anti-infantry if possible. That means HE rounds for the Russes. I hope to begin our advance in four hours. That is all,"

He broke the connection and released his mind from the warp. He felt exhausted and wolfed down a ration bar to get back some of his energy. He decided it may be prudent to retire for a few hours so that he would be rested before the battle began.

Captain Savlon looked about the cabin of the chimera. Directly across from him sat his company's Commissar, a stern looking man by the name of Grassik Tikus. Despite regulations, he was from the home planet Savlon was from, though he was taken away to be trained as a Commissar when he was only five years old. Normally, a Commissar would not be from the home planets of the troops he was charged with, but due to the sheer number of planets that they had recruited from, it was inevitable that at least one Commissar would be from the same world as one of the other troopers.

It was because of this shared world that Savlon had taken the Commissar into his own company. He missed his old planet greatly and the Commissar served as a reminder to the simpler and better years he had spent on the planet, playing farmer and husband to a beautiful woman. They were to have a child within three months.

That's when the ruinous powers fell on his planet. They captured most of the population and tortured them, feeding their souls to the dark gods that the screaming lunatics worshipped. Tasha, his wife, had been killed before him by one of the filthy worshippers of darkness. They had sliced her open and spread her organs about in an eight pointed star, at the center of which they placed his unborn, yet murdered child. They had used that circle to summon a daemon, a horrid beast that words could not begin to describe.

Savlon shook his head and cleared it of the memories. Now was not the time. It was time for battle.

He scratched at the beginnings of a beard and realized he should have shaved before planetfall. This beard was going to be annoying and annoyances tended to be killers in warfare.

He leaned over to the commissar and shouted over the roaring engines, "You better not kill any of my men today, worm," he joking shouted.

"As long as a soft skinned fool like you can manage to lead them, I won't have to kill anyone, ever," returned the Commissar. He was fiddling with his new plasma pistol which he had managed to requisition after taking down a Chaotic Astartes on the previous planet. He set the pistol aside and double checked the battery pack in his chainsword. If it ran dry in the middle of a fight against orks, he was very well bliked.

"Me? Soft skin? How dare you!" replied Savlon in mock hurt.

"Don't blame me, you were the one to call the Emperor's wrath down on yourself."

"Hm, indeed," responded Savlon before he drifted back into his thoughts.

Jarvix was mimicking the Commissar and was once again fiddling with his new hellgun. A few of the other bodyguards smirked at his obsessive cleansing rituals, but Jarvix knew better than to mess with the machine spirit. He finished polishing the gun and took out his gold cog necklace and kissed it, muttering a prayer to the Emperor and the Omnissiah.

"Say, boy, what do you think you're doing?" inquired the guard next to him. Jarvix turned and looked at the grizzled veteran, whose lined face had seen dozens of battle fields and hundreds of his friends died. Jarvix nearly shuttered at the sights he must have seen in his years.

"Just saying a few prayers before battle."

"Ah, standard Emperor worship?"

"Yes, along with some worship to the machine god."

"Now wait a second. For one thing, the Emperor is the only god, and two, you don't look like no damn tech-priest to me. What you be worshipping that false god for?"

"Well, Omnissiah is part of the Emperor, so I am just worshipping a specific part of the same god. As for why I am, I grew up on a Mechanicus forge world, so worship of the Omnissiah was more or less expected."

"Whatever floats your boat, kid."

Jarvix ignored the old veteran and put his weapons aside. He leaned his head against the side of the chimera, feeling the rumble of the engine flow through him. He always had an affinity for machines, but he never considered himself tech-priest material. Still, he enjoyed being in transports of any kind. The rumbling of the engine felt like a cradle rocking him to sleep. He decided a quick nap before the battle might be a good idea. He yawned and dozed off.

The boom of artillery filled the air around Commissar Krakin. The vibrations traveled through the air and rattled in his new replacement heart and lungs. He scanned the battle field and despite his lack of showing emotion, he was filled with dread at the sight.

There had to be at least a million orks surrounding the hive. There were several gargants firing their heavy weapons at the city, trying to destroy the void shields surrounding it. Already, the orks had managed to deactivate one shield, leaving only one left, which was almost depleted as well. The fields around the city were burnt, meaning even more fertile farmland was lost to the ravages of war. If this plague managed to spread any further, there wouldn't be a planet worth fighting for.

He tried to locate where the ork leadership was, but he couldn't tell from the top of the wall. IF he could managed to direct the artillery fire on to some of the warbosses leading the siege, the resulting confusion might break the ork lines, allowing his forces a victory. His only hope would be that the imperial forces currently landing would be able to assist quickly.

He scribbled some coordinates down where he though some ork leaders might be and handed them to a runner. A few minutes later, the wall of fire brought down by the artillery shifted, killing more orks, but not slowing down their fire.

Krakin cursed and spat off the wall. The orks were bringing up more of their own artillery to bring down the shields. The crackle of their zzap guns echoed across the city streets and between the towering skyscrapers and spires that made up the city. The bolts of lightning hit the shields with the force of a mag-train, showering the orks outside the shield with sparks and lighting the inside of the shield with blue cracks of light.

_So, this is it, _he thought, _I die defending an overgrown city made up of farmers, but I'll be damned if I die without a fight._

"Voxer!" he barked.

"Sir?" replied the trooper manning the large vox unit.

"Send an order to all infantry. Report to the east gates immediately. We are going to charge the enemy and try to kill a few of their leaders."

"Yes, sir," he said obediently and he began repeating the orders to the unit commanders. Krakin moved briskly to the mag-lift and descended down to the lower levels of the hive, where the east gate was located. He stepped off the lift and walked to the gate. He noted that it was much darker here and he saw gang members and the poor of the city sneaking around in the shadows.

_Poor wretches. They probably don't even know what's happening._

He arrived at the gate and saw several companies were already waiting for him. He straightened his long black over coat and checked to make sure his bolt pistol was in place. He drew his chainsword and approach the commander of the city forces.

"Imperial guard units have landed only a few hours from here. I have reason to believe that several units are on their way to our position now," he reported to the commander. Though he had a lot of renown and sway over the military units here due to the fact he destroyed an ork gargant single handedly, it was up to the actually commanders to call the shots. He had probably overstepped his bounds in requesting that the units muster at the gate. "I suggest that we have a massed infantry charge and try to take out some of the orks command structure before the imperial guard units arrive."

"Do you know for sure reinforcements are on the way?" asked the Commander doubtfully.

"No, not for sure, but knowing this particular general, he will be launching a quick first wave."

"You do realize that if they don't arrive soon enough, we will be overrun."

"Yes, but if they do come and we aren't fighting, they may be overrun as well."

The commander ignored this and continued talking, "If we are overran, then the shields will fall quicker, meaning the death of this city."

"At this rate, the shields will fall within a few days anyway."

"That's a few days that a lot of people will want to live!"

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

"Yes, commissar, but I don't know what you're doing, and that's what scared me."

"You have no reason to worry, commander. Everything will work out. Everything will go according to plan."

"What plan?"

"Don't worry, I have one."

"Would you care to enlighten me?"

"No time. Do you smell that?" Krakin said, sniffing the air.

"All I smell is the filth of the orks and the under city."

"I smell promethium. Our reinforcements are here."

"Commissar, if you're wrong about this. . ."

"If I'm wrong about this, we'll both be dead. If I'm right about this, we'll both be heroes. Now let's go be heroes commander!"

The commander nodded and waved his hand to the gate control house. The gate opened slowly as the commissar and the commander took their places in front of the infantry, some four thousand troops.

The commander raised his power sword and cried, "For Maklis Hive!"

The commissar raised his chainsword and shouted, "For the Emperor and the golden throne!"

The men echoed their cries and the mass charged forward into the throng of ork awaiting them. Autoguns fired and knives bit into green flesh. The orks were not expecting this display of fury and were pushed back temporarily. As the commissar's chainsword neatly decapitated an ork, he saw the unmistakable smoke trails of a promethium engine in a chimera transport. Their reinforcements had indeed come.

"Forward, men!" he cried, "To victory!"


	4. Chapter 3

"Someone get on that damned heavy bolter!" shouted Savlon over the din of the engines and the crashes of axes against the metal hull. They had entered the battle field three minutes prior and had managed to escape a lot of notice until a rampant bomb squig chased after and blew up a hell hound. The burning wreckage was a beacon to the orks telling them some more combatants had entered the scrap and they weren't friendly.

"Calm down, Savlon," Mathis shouted back, still seated. "The orks won't be able to get through here." There was a loud crash behind Mathis. Peering above him, he saw that an ork's chainaxe was slowly making its way down just inches from his head. He got up quickly and cried, "Someone get on that damned heavy bolter!"

Jarvix was the first to respond and quickly stepped onto the small stool and found himself in the confines of the turret on top of the chimera. The heavy bolter seemed simple enough to operate. There was no clip, only a belt feed from what he assumed was a rather large feeding drum. He rubbed his hands together and found the trigger. He aimed at a mob of orks and squeezed the trigger.

He immediately let go as the world dissolved into white noise. The bark of any bolt weapon was impressive enough, but within a metal shell it was ridiculously loud. After futilely trying to shake the ringing from his ear, he gripped the heavy bolter again and pulled the trigger.

Completely deafened by the noise, he managed to not let go of the trigger. Large explosive shells fired out of the gun rapidly into the ork hordes. Jarvix noted that there were so many orks, that he literally couldn't miss as he would hit something with greenflesh.

Savlon and Mathis were working below with a mobile vox set, trying to make a reasonable attack formation. They had the makings of an arrowhead strike, but with only a few hundred of their vehicles. There were still some seven hundred out of any formation, just trying to survive. There were even chimeras that had let their troops out. The poor bastards were slaughtered in seconds.

"All vehicles, form up! Russes take points, hell hounds behind them! Chimeras form the rear! Do not let them get to the rear armor of our main tanks!" shouted Mathis into the vox unit.

A nearby blast rocked the chimera and through both Mathis and Savlon off their feet. Mathis righted himself and commissar Tikus helped Savlon to his feet. Mathis noticed something was off. A few moments later, he put his finger on it.

"Why in the Emperor's name have we stopped kratting moving!" he demanded.

One of the guardsmen went to the front and shouted back, "The driver's dead, sir!"

"Well, figure out the pedals and get us moving!"

"Right away, sir!" The guardsman sat down on the seat and began fiddling with the controls.

Alarms started blaring inside the chimera. "What tripped the large mass sensors?" Mathis demanded.

Savlon thought for a second and replied, "Maybe the sheer number of orks set it off."

The Jarvix poked his head down to the captain and the general and said flatly, "Maybe it's the gargant that is only a few dozen meters from us."

Mathis and Savlon exchanged a worried look. Savlon called to the new driver, "Get us moving Mitlo!"

"I'm trying my best, sir! I never had vehicle training!"

Savlon turned back to the vox set to reissue the orders when the chimera was lifted off of the ground. Jarvix was thrown from the turret to the floor and all the other soldiers stumbled as the chimera flew from the ground and across the seething mass of green flesh below.

They landed hard, tumbling over orks and unmounted guardsmen. Lasguns and other item were thrown around the cabin, striking the soldiers indiscriminately. Jarvix tried to cover his ears and shut his eyes in a futile attempt to escape the noisy hell that the chimera had become.

The rolling tanks tilted one last time and stopped dead upside down. Mathis groggily awoke and saw the transport in a state of disarray. Savlon was already about, checking pulses on a few of the bodies. Jarvix was in a corner, puking, and the Commissar was checking his weapons. One other guardsman was peering out of the firing slots on the back of the transport.

"Looks like the Gargant is heading this way," the bodyguard reported, "That blast took out two other chimeras and a hell hound. Took out a few dozen orks too."

"Savlon knelt of the ceiling turned floor and sighed, "Everyone who isn't conscious is dead. Now we're hundreds of meters from out armor. I think we are rightly screwed."

Mathis got up and placed a metal hand of Savlon's shoulder. "Think positively. At least we get to die in combat!"

"General, with all due respect, get you're bloody hand off of me," snapped Savlon.

Jarvix grabbed his hell gun and joined the other bodyguard standing at the firing slits.

"I don't think the orks know anyone is alive in here," the other guard said, "We should be alright for a few minutes until we decide what to do." He turned to Jarvix and sized him up, "What's your name?"

"Trooper Olig Jarvix. What about you?"

"Sergeant Till Finruck."

Commissar Tikus appeared behind them. He pointed at the gargant and said, "Look there, plasma burns. The orks here worked out how to use plasma technology."

"Excuse me, sir," Jarvix said, "but could those burns not be from the PDF weapons?"

"No, those are definitely plasma burns and there are no plasma weapons of high enough magnitude to cause burns like those. Also, those burns look like they came from inside the actual gargant. Therefore that gargant is running on plasma."

"And if plasma tech is unstable under Imperium control. . ." started Finruck.

"Then that gargant is a ticking time bomb of plasma." Finished Mathis. "Great observation, commissar! What was your name again?"

"Tikus, sir."

"Tikus, you are getting a promotion, my friend."

"I'm sorry sir, but I can only be promoted by another member of the commissariat of a higher rank than myself."

"Well, aren't you a downer, Tikus."

"I do it for the Emperor, sir. He finds you hopefuls to be damned annoying."

Mathis shot Savlon a look. "Is Tikus always this snarky?"

Savlon glanced at Tikus and looked Mathis in the eye, "No, sir. He's usually worse."

A rather large ork turned to the chimera and walked towards it. It looked into the firing slit, which the men had abandoned once they saw the ork approaching. Trying to stay quiet, the men smelled the stench of rotting meat on the breath of the ork as it spoke in crude low gothic.

"OY!" it boomed, "Any 'oomies in dere? Come out an' fight me!"

Savlon mouthed to the others, "What do we do?"

Everyone was quiet for another second. The ork kicked the chimera with a steel boot, causing the whole tank to ring. "OY! I'z talking to ya! Answer me!"

Jarvix stood and, took a deep breath, and imitated the orks voice perfectly, "HEY! Leave me alone! Dis 'ere is my metal box an' I intend ter keep it!"

The ork stood puzzled for a second then shouted, "Fine den. You'ze sound pretty big, so I'll let you go dis time. Next metal box is mine, ya 'ear me?"

"Of course I 'ear ya, you rotten 'umie lover!"

"HAR! See 'ou on da battle field mate! WAAAAAAAAGH!" It bellowed, leaving the chimera behind, charging at some other unfortunate guardsman.

The others looked at Jarvix in disbelief. Jarvix shrugged and said, "I have a knack for imitating people. And orks, apparently."

Savlon heard a few muffled thumps in his ear and he noticed that Mathis reached for his ear too. The microbeads! He had forgotten. The vox caster was smashed to hell and back, but their microbeads were intact.

Mathis nodded to Savlon and the captian keyed his microbead. "This is Captain Savlon speaking."

"Captain! It's bloddy good to hear from you. We just saw your chimera get tossed about. Are you alright?"

"Banged up a bit, lost most of my squad. Who is this?"

"Tank commander Listan. What are your orders?"

"Listan, do you and your tanks have any armor penetration shells?"

"Yes, sir, we do. What do you want us to fire at?"

"You see that burn mark on the side of the gargant?"

"Yes, sir."

"Blow that spot to the warp."

"Yes, sir!"

Finruck turned to the captain. "Sir, uh, we're roughly a hundred meters from the gargant."

Savlon eyes turned wide. Mathis stood up and said, "Well, I think we can agree that we are dead if we stay here much longer. Let's take a chance with the greenskins."

Mathis turned on his powerfists matter disruption field and cocked his stormbolter. Both Jarvix and Finruck grabbed and shouldered their lasguns. Tikus drew his chainsword and plasma pistol. Savlon drew his hellpistol and slammed the open hatch button.

The hatch unlocked with an audible click, but stood in place. Mathis shot Savlon a questioning look. Savlon shrugged. Tikus turned to him, "Savlon, we are upside down. Gravity is not going to open the hatch like it should. Maybe you should detonate the hatch charges."

"Oh, right." Savlon hit the charge buttons. There was a muffled explosion and the hatch flew open, letting the dim light into the chimera. Jarvix and Finruck ran out of the chimera and gunned down several boys near the hatch that were dazed by the explosion.

Mathis followed them, firing his stormbolter at a nob wearing a horned helmet. The nob roared at him and ignored the fist sized wound that were appearing in its flesh at a quick pace. It fired its crude gun at the general, but missed. The bullets ricocheted off of the chimera and hit an unlucky grot, killing it instantly.

The nob charged with a bunch of other orks. Jarvix and Finruck fired into the smaller orks, killing a few. Tikus had came out of the chimera and fired his plasma pistol at one of the larger orks, turning its head into a chunk of charred flesh. Savlon raised his hellpistol and shot a bolt through an orks leg, but the ork kept charging despite the wound.

Mathis fired into the mob surrounding the orks, killing another two. His stormbolter clicked dry. The clip fell to the ground as he released it, but by then the nob was on him. It brought its huge axe down in a blow meant to cleave Mathis in two. Mathis instinctively blocked with his powerfist, which destroyed the axe head. The handle still hit Mathis with the force of a mag-train and he staggered backwards.

Jarvix hellgun went dry seconds after Mathis lost his stormbolter. He drew his warknife and charged a nearby ork. The ork tried to decapitate him, but he duck and shoved his knife into the orks belly. Intestines spilled from the dying ork as another came around and punched Jarvix in the gut.

Jarvix fell back, the wind knocked from him. The ork raised its axe to kill him, but a lasbolt went through its head. Savlon was kneeling, firing shot after shot into the orks. Finruck had gone dry and reloaded, firing into the shrinking mob. Jarvix reached behind him and picked up his hellgun. He quickly shoved a new clip into it and added his fire into the mob.

Mathis was struck yet again by the handle of the axe he had destroyed. The nob roared at the loss of his weapon and clawed at Mathis, drawing several large lines of blood. Mathis retaliated with a blow to the chest with his powerfist. Part of the ork's chest disappeared in a puff of vaporized blood. The ork roared in pain and kicked Mathis over before dying.

Mathis tried to get up when two grots jumped on top of him. The child-sized greenskins brandished small knives and stabbed Mathis. One knife broke when the grot tried to stab the metal arm. The other found Mathis' calf, tearing flesh and muscle. Mathis howled in pain and crushed the grot's head with his powerfirst. The other bit Mathis' nose, causing blood spurt out, covering both of them. Mathis felt his nose break and start to tear. The grot disappeared in a red mist.

A man in a heavy black leather jacket appeared and offered his hand to the general. Mathis took it and got to his feet. The others had dispatched the leftover orks in the mobs. Mathis scanned the battlefield and saw that in the combat, they had managed to move twenty meters from the Chimera. He was shocked both at how far he had gotten and how close they still were. He turned to his savior and noticed he was wearing a pointed cap like Tikus was. "Thank you for that. What is your name, soldier?"

"Lord Commissar Krakin, at your service."

"Lord Commissar? When I read your name on the data pad earlier today, it said you were a Junior Commissar."

"I was promoted by the late Lord Commissar Ounis, Emperor rest his soul. The data pad you received contained outdated information."

Mathis looked over the Lord Commissar's shoulder and saw several thousand troopers pouring fire into the ork ranks. "I see you have brought friends."

"Yes, I have. We need to get your troops to the walls now. We've managed to clear a path."

"Ok, tell my men that. Talk to a commander Listan and tell him that this orders comes from me. I assume you have a vox caster. He should be using frequency delta bravo niner."

"Right away." The commissar saluted and moved to his troops. The gargant was moving away now, some four hundred meters now. The ground shook with every step it took. The great metal beast was rippling with explosions as several dozen Leman Russes fired high explosive shells at it. The gargant swayed under the onslaught and started to tip over.

"BRACE FOR IMPACT!" screamed Mathis as the gargant's left side tipped past the point of no return. The ork craft fell to the side, toward a large portion of the ork horde where thankfully, no guardsmen or PDF troopers were.

Screams of orks filled the air, mixing with the shriek of metal as the gargant met the ground. It seemed like the entire planet was shaking. Several PDF troopers near Mathis fell to the ground from the shaking. Mathis was thrown a foot in the air and landed unsteadily on his feet.

After a few seconds, the shaking stopped. The PDF cheered as the orks retreated, having lost their symbol of war and monument to their god. Mathis quickly got on the vox caster near him and gave orders to chase the ork and try to cut them off. The fleeing orks were easily slaughtered by the hundreds. At the end of the day, reports were coming in of nearly two hundred thousand dead orks and only three hundred guardsmen and PDF troopers dead.

That night, the remaining orks retreated from the hive. The siege was successfully broken in one day. Throughout the hive cities of the free continent, people cheered for the might of the Imperium and the heroic general that won the day for Maklis Hive.


	5. Chapter 4

"General Mathis! A pleasure to meet you! May I call you Ignace?"

"The pleasure is mutual, Planetary Governor. You can call me whatever you like." Mathis said. He sat down on one of the ornate wooden chairs across from the governor's desk. The governor sat, staring a Mathis, his pudgy fingers drumming against the desk.

"Well, then Ignace, congratulations at beating the orks at Maklis. Millions know your name because of this. You are a true hero! By the Emperor, I think you are more heroic than the average Astartes!"

Mathis calmly nodded, "Thank you sir."

"No need to be formal, Ignace. Call my Rathorn. That's my first name. Would you like a drink?"

"Yes, a glass of sacra would be nice," he paused, "Rathorn."

The Governor chuckled and poured Maklis a glass and handed it to him. "Comes from Tanith, this stuff. Half way across the galaxy. Nothing but the finest for a true hero of the Imperium."

Mathis took a sip and smiled. "It is wonderful, sir. You have excellent taste."

"Call me Rathorn, I insist."

"Ok, Rathorn. I have a question."

"All right, was is it?"

"Why did you wait two full years to contact the Imperium for assistance against the ork outbreak."

The governor's bright attitude quickly became dampened. He frowned at Mathis. "Ignace, I had every intention of calling for the Imperial guard once the situation became out of control for the PDF."

"Except you didn't. One of your adjutants had to behind your back."

"I felt like the situation was still in control."

"After the loss of twelve hive cities?"

"Yes. The PDF on this continent are the best of the best, comparable to your guardsmen. They can handle the orks themselves. Not that I'm not grateful for your help Ignace. Emperor knows I am. I simply didn't want to tax the systems around here from their protection as well."

Mathis slowly nodded. "Ok, that seems reasonable. However, you should have contacted us after the first city fell. I could have sent a few thousand men and had this situation finished in a few weeks. Now this is going to be a prolonged campaign. I have two hundred thousand men on the planet surface now. Now that I understand the full extent of this infestation, I'm requesting between ten to twelve million more. That's going to be taxing. Not to mention, this campaign is going to last a few months at least, most likely a few years. Next time this happens, report it immediately. The Imperium will decide how much help you'll receive."

"Well, it's my planet and I will run it as I see fit."

"Yes, it's your planet. But because of you, two billion people have died and three billion more may have if your adjutant hadn't called for reinforcements. Also, if your planet falls, billions more will starve and guardsmen will go unequipped. If the orks had captured this planet, they would have the raw materials to wage a full Waaagh! on this sector and dozens of other planets may have been caught in the crossfire. Yes, this is your planet, but it is also the Imperium's."

"Get out of my office. Now," The Governor sneered.

"Gladly." Mathis slammed his empty glass against the desk and stormed out of the office. That prick would pay.

The hooded figures gathered around the eight-pointed star. There were nine gathered, each standing at a point. The ninth stood in the center and said, "He is here. The one chosen by destiny to lead the armies of the true gods against the false emperor!"

"He is here," chanted the others.

"It was foretold by the great Tra'til'nuk that he would come, ripe with the fruit of from which chaos feeds. He demands audience with the chosen one. We must obey."

"We must obey," chanted the others as they faded into the shadows.

Savlon stood outside of the governor's office building in Maklis hive. Apparently, the governor had an office in the main spire of every hive on the planet. It made sense, but it seemed . . . excessive.

"Well," he muttered to himself, "royalty and nobles never do anything on a small scale."

"Screw ups are no exception either," Mathis said, walking out of the front door.

Savlon matched pace with him as they walked across the elevated walkways of the upper hive. "I take it your meeting didn't go well."

"No, not at all," Mathis replied as he waved at a few civilians that recognized him. "He is a pompous ass that thinks he shits gold. We're lucky his adjutants have common sense. He sure needs some."

"I agree, but there is nothing we can do about that now. What's the plan?"

"Plan? I have no plan! I thought this would be easy. One, maybe two hives to recapture. But this, this is a whole new playing field. Seventeen hive cities! We'll need millions of troops, not thousands! We have to wait for reinforcements and those won't arrive for at least six months. We can't do anything!"

"I don't think that's totally true, sir."

"Oh? What do you suggest then?"

"Let's retake the other two hive cities on this strip of land sir. That would take a few months and it would give us a good launching point once the reinforcements arrive. Plus, it will give us an excuse to train the PDF in our tactics, giving us a few million extra troops as well."

Mathis stopped dead in his tracks. He turned to Savlon and said, "Captain, I'm afraid I'm going to have to order you to stop being smarter than me. Seriously, wow. I didn't think of that. You should be general."

"I'm not cut out for it."

"Sure you are. You just came up with a plan better than my idea of waiting for six months with our thumbs up our collective asses. I should make you my second in command."

"No, sir, I can't accept that."

"Yes, you will. Because that's an order, my friend. You will be my second in command. In the event of my absence, you will take the title of field-general and for all intents and purposes be the leader of the Kratanos 8th division. If I am confirmed dead or missing for more than six months, you will be made the permanent leader of the Kratanos 8th and your official title will be General."

"Sir, I'm speechless. . ."

"Good, I'm sick of talking anyway. Let's go eat."

Savlon staggered to his barracks after several hours of eating and drinking with the general. He opened the door to his bunk and was startled when two pairs of hands grabbed him from the shadows. He was thrown against the wall and the room became pitch black as the assailants closed the door. They flicked on the lights and Savlon saw that his attacker was none other than captain Bruk. He was approaching Savlon with his two cronies.

He grabbed Savlons collar and punched him in the gut. "You little ass kissing farm boy! You upstart maggot! Second in command my ass, you're nothing but a worm." Bruk punched Savlon across the face. Too drunk to react, Savlon just spat out a tooth and a mouthful of blood.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Savvy boy. Not feeling to good?" He slammed Savlon's head against the walls several times and let him go. Savlon fell to the floor, not reacting at all. Bruk and his friends started to kick the downed captain savagely, calling him slurs as they did so. That's when they heard the laspistol charge.

"Turn around slowly, hand up." All three of the men did as they were told. A mean looking man wearing the insignia of Savlon's company was holding the laspistol aimed at Bruk's head. "Leave this room now and maybe I won't tell the General about this."

The three men ran from the room. Jarvix holstered his pistol and grabbed Savlon's hand and tried to pick him up. He carried him to the infirmary. When the medic there asked him what happened, Jarvix replied, "He got drunk and fell down a flight of stairs. Shit happens."

Jarvix walked back to his own room and collapsed on the bed there. A pair of arms wrapped themselves around him and he felt a kiss on the back of his neck.

"Hey Katly, what are you still doing up?"

"You said that you would be back five minutes ago two hours ago. I was worried."

"I was just looking after a friend. Turns out he needed my help."

"Looks like I have a good man with you, Olif. Looks like I picked right."

"Go to sleep, Kat. We'll talk in the morning." He took out a lho stick and lit it, smoking, thinking.

Mathis wasn't quite as drunk and was walking quite steadily when several cloaked figures emerged from the shadows. He reached for his stormbolter and said, "Hello, what do you want?"

One of them spoke gibberish and all the figures drew silver sticks. They jabbed at Mathis with the sticks. He felt needles poking his skin and he found that he was paralyzed. The figures lifted him and carried him away. He was disoriented and confused. The drugs made his thoughts scatter and his mind was a jumbled mess. He tried to close his eyes, but found that even his eyelids wouldn't move.

A short time later, he found himself tied to a chair. He was now able to move his fingers and close his eyes. He sat for maybe an hour when he was finally in full control of his actions. That's when the hooded figures brought a woman, maybe twenty something in front of him. They shackled her with chains on the ground and left the room. Mathis heard the click of the lock from the great steel door.

"Don't worry, ma'am, I'll get us out of here." He said to her. Tears were flowing from her cheeks. He started to struggle with the knots tying him to the chair when he heard a quiet buzzing sound. The buzzing sound grew louder and he swore he could hear some chanting.

"What's your name?" He tried to distract himself and the woman.

"Tilly. Tilly Stranson."

"Don't worry, Tilly, I have a plan."

The buzzing was louder now and Mathis clearly heard the chanting now. The air became cold and Mathis had a headache. He had felt this before, long ago. . .

Tilly started moaning in pain. The buzzing was now frighteningly loud and the chanting was a frenzied shouting. His head was splitting with pain. Tilly screamed.

Her neck snapped. Bones in here body broke and her flesh tore. In seconds, she was a mass of torn skin, destroyed muscle, and broken bones. The mass quivered and reformed, taking a grotesque shape. Was resulted was beyond words.

In Tilly's place, out of the shackles, stood a daemon. It was three meters tall, the skin red like blood. In its hand was a long sword. It had a smooth tail with a sharp point and horns protruded from its head. Its legs were backwards jointed like a dog and it possessed a mouth of incredibly vast amounts of sharp teeth.

_I'm dead. I am going to die. _Thought Mathis.

The thing tilted its head at Mathis and spoke without moving its mouth. "My name is Tra'til'nuk. You never met me, but you know my work. I killed Captain Blakeo."

"You! You were the one! You killed my captain! You bastard, I will destroy you!"

"Now, now, no need to get violent. I just want to talk."

"Why should I talk to you?"

"Because I can give you what you want."

"Yeah, and what is that?"

"Fame."


	6. Chapter 5

**V**

Mathis tried to turn away from the daemon, but the daemon's gaze locked into his eyes. Mathis willed himself to look away, but the daemon had his mind in its grasp. So Mathis decided to be brave and attempted to look the daemon directly into its pale yellow eyes. Inside those eyes, he saw the deaths of millions and he vomited.

The daemon gave a barking laugh. "First time seeing a daemon, is it? Am I not glorious? Am I not magnificent? Cower before me, fool."

Mathis raised his head and looked at the monstrosity before him. "You are an abomination of nature. By the Emperor, I hope you die."

The daemon seemed to cringe a little at the mention of the Emperor, but that may have just been an unstable connection from the warp. The daemon moved around, circling Mathis. "I have not manifested myself to argue with a pitiful human like you. I am here to cut a deal with you."

"I will never deal with daemon spawn."

"So you say. Have you ever considered the benefits? You could have armies that not only follow you to the death, but worship you."

"I have no need for worship. I fight for the Emperor and that is its own reward."

"What about women? Not a whole lot of time for them as a warrior, but as a champion of chaos, you can have your pick of the finest seductresses of Slaanesh."

Mathis' ears burned at the mention of the foul god's name. He wanted to vomit again, but her refused to and instead spat at the daemon's cloven foot. "I have no need for women. The Emperor is the only lover I need."

"Faithful, I like that. Almost fanatical. You would serve us well. What is it you want? I can do anything. My masters have given me full reign."

"The only thing I want is you dead."

"Now now, no need to be nasty about it."

"There is plenty need, warpspawn!"

"Do you think that's an insult? Look at me, forged in the warp, living off of emotion. Eternal. I have always existed and I always will. I am more powerful than you can imagine!"

"Then why do you need my help?"

The daemon shot him a death glare and Mathis thrashed in his restraints. "Don't test my patience boy. You aren't the only commander that I can seduce, you know."

"Just humor me."

"My masters, my brethren and I may be omnipotent in the warp, but in the Materium, our powers are . . . limited. We have need for champions within the Materium to manifest our full powers."

Mathis nodded, "Alright. Still, I shall never join you. The Emperor is the only god and his light will blot out all others."

The daemon shook his head, "You really believe all this Emperor crap, don't you? He's a corpse. He is dead. My gods are alive. You can see their works everywhere. You god is rotting as we speak."

Mathis strained against the ropes holding him. They were tied tight and wouldn't give to his struggles. "Stop struggling, worm. I've enchanted those ropes myself. You aren't going anywhere until I let you," the daemon growled.

The beast squatted in front of Mathis and dared him to look him in the eye. "You fight for your emperor now. You will be dead in a few decades, maybe sooner. The people here cheer you as a hero, but in a few years, they will forget you. Everyone will forget you. Even the mighty Astartes are forgotten eventually. But if you join chaos, your fame will be eternal. You will be eternal, forever reincarnating to serve the gods again and again. Every citizen in the warp, the eye of terror and the Imperium will know your name and fear it. Mathis, destroyer of worlds, leader of the ruinous powers."

"That is not fame, it is infamy."

"It is eternal life and a chance to prove yourself the better of all others. Your caption, Blakeo. Didn't her promote the boy in front of you?"

"Don't you dare talk about Granis that way!"

"Haha, the boy Granis. That was his name. You know, I ate his soul when he died. In fact, I ate every soul that perished that day. All ninety-nine of them. Your entire company. I engineered that day. If I hadn't, you would still be a sergeant. Now look at you. A full blown general will a hundred thousand men under his direct command and the ability to command millions more. One more promotion and you will reshape entire systems!

"Now, imagine that same power, but with more too it. Not only would you command guardsmen, you would command Astartes and daemons! You would command me! You would change the shape of the galaxy. You have thousands at your command now. Join me, and you will command billions. Trillions. You will demand respect and you will get it. You will live in infamy, true, but it is better to live in infamy than in obscurity."

Mathis spat once more, "And it is better to die for the Emperor than to serve the foul powers of Chaos." Mathis had noticed the cultists had not removed his powerfist. He just had to wait for the right time to strike and he would be free.

"Once again, I respect your loyalty. I shall let you go now, Mathis. We will talk again soon."

"Like hell we will!" He shouted, activating his powerfist, tearing the ropes apart and charging the daemon. He brought the weapon up over his head when the daemon lifted him up by the neck.

"You're lucky I like you, Mathis," sneered the daemon. It threw Mathis against the wall. When Mathis got back up, he saw the daemon was gone. He picked up his stormbolter from a table near the wall he was thrown and saw the top of the stairwell was open. He quickly climbed up the stairs which lead to a mid-level spire top. He waved down an air taxi that drove him back to the barracks.

He decided to not report the incident. That would just get the inquisition involved. No, it would be better if he let it go and tried to get on with his life.

He arrived at the barracks and walked to his room. He checked his wrist chrono and saw it was three in the morning. He had to get the men up at six. He sighed and entered his room. He shed his filthy clothes and fell into his cot.

He drifted off slowly to sleep, but his dreams were full of images of burning worlds and masses of insane worshipers.


End file.
